Take a Really Long Nap with Me
by Sweetloot
Summary: Dates with Grif are a little different.


(Originally written July 3rd 2014)

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His head was rising and falling, rising and falling, an easy rhythm that was lulling him back to sleep. He wanted to fight it, he should be working, but there was a hand carding through his hair, nails lightly scratching at the nape of his neck. It wasn't often Simmons got to relax like this.

He let out a content hum, rubbing his cheek against a well-worn t-shirt. The owner of said t-shirt laughed, a short sound that bounced Simmons head against a soft belly.

Simmons moved one hand from where it was resting on Grif's chest towards a shoulder, rubbing his hand back and forth to get the other man's attention. "Grif?"

Grif let out a yawn, his questioning hum almost lost with the action.

"We should really get up and go back to work." Simmons said, but made no motion to move, his thumb feeling Grif's pulse where it was resting against his neck.

Grif breathed out a sarcastic _'probably'_ while he placed his hand on Simmons' upper arm, fingers massaging up and down the freckled skin, taking a longer moment where pale flesh met shining metal.

Simmons shifted himself forward, bringing himself closer to the Hawaiian's face, used his nose to nudge at Grif's chin. "Come on, lazy-ass. Sarge will come looking for us soon."

Grif groaned, an annoyed noise. "_Ugh_, would you _please_ not talk about Sarge while we're on our date?"

Simmons raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face. "We're on a date? Right now?"

Grif gave him a playful glare, mock hurt in his voice. "We're on a date and you didn't even notice? You wound me, Simmons. I bathed and everything."

The taller man laughed, his longer legs dangling over the armrest of the couch. "Thank god for that, I've been practically in your armpit for the last hour."

"Don't deny your love for my man-stink, it's part of my charm."

Simmons rolled his remaining human eye, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "Oh, yes. B.O, how charming."

"Shut up, asshole."

"Suck it, bitch."

They threw a few more playful insults at each other, traded light kisses between each barb. Simmons let his lips linger over a scar, the skin on one side considerably lighter than the rest, but starting to tan to match the rest of his complexion. He kissed a path up, just below the single green eye that matched his own, felt Grif's stubble as he returned a kiss to Simmons' cheek.

The kissing slowed after a while, lips resting where they landed for longer amounts of time until Simmons settled back down on Grif's belly, enjoying the warmth soaking into his cheek. He let a smile slip into his voice, "So, this is your idea of a date?"

Grif laughed, a loud, happy sound that Simmons secretly loved. It was infectious, you just couldn't be in a bad mood when you heard it. Simmons didn't want to start getting sappy, but it was the thing that drew him to Grif in the first place, long before they were comfortable enough with each other to take off their helmets unless it was in private. The first time Simmons had heard Grif's laugh, it was because he had told a pretty horrible joke, but Grif had found it funny anyway. His laugh had bounced off the canyon, a sound that had been so light and carefree that Simmons temporarily had forgotten that they were at war. It had made Simmons blush furiously under his helmet, thinking _'holy shit that's cute, where the hell did that come from?'_ He tried to speak, to tell him it wasn't _that_ funny, but he could only stutter while Grif continued to laugh the kind of full-body laugh that put all other sounds to shame.

Grif's laughter calmed and Simmons was slightly saddened to hear it fade, but Grif still held the sound in his voice. "Hell yeah, what better date than this? I get three things I love: naps and the both of us horizontal on a flat surface."

Simmons' cheeks flushed, making the tips of his ears feel hot. He cleared his throat, hiding his face in Grif's shirt. "T-that was only two things, not three. Something go wrong with your counting? What was the third?"

Grif started carding his fingers through Simmons' hair again, his voice soft when he spoke, "Take a guess, genius."

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Thanks for reading!


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